Doing What I Had To Do
by txrockgirl
Summary: Oneshot. John reflects on his past abusive relationship with CM Punk. Stuff happens. HORRIBLE summary, does not do the story justice. Read and you'll see why. Slight m/m but nothing major. John Morrison/CM Punk. Yeah I know, odd pairing lol.


**Disclaimer: I own NOTHING. No monetary gain is being made from this work.**

**Author's Note: Inspired by the January 10, 2011 edition of Monday Night Raw. I swear this story completely 100% wrote itself. All I did was supply the pen and paper. XD Yes, I know, this is an odd pairing, but that's how it came to me. I don't know why. Mild m/m, nothing slashy at all though. You'll see why I rated it M. Please read, review, enjoy, subscribe, alert, etc, etc.**

**John Morrison/CM Punk, told from John's Point-of-View**

The entire crowd grew silent when they saw him standing atop the jumbo tron, microphone in hand. He spoke, claiming he was making the 'ultimate sacrifice' as his initiation as the new 'leader' of the New Nexus. He confessed his plans to jump from the top of the tron to the cold, hard arena below. His expression was cold, almost sinister as he spoke with vivid details of every bone and muscle in his body basically being destroyed.

Seeing him perched at least fifty feet above the ground, speaking maniacally of his soon-to-be suicide stirred up a thousand thoughts in my mind all at once. It suddenly made me realize that I loved the man just as much as I had grown to utterly hate him over the years.

Our personal and working relationships had always been strained. He was the most impossible man to get along with. He demanded perfection, and anything less, more times than not, would result in him going off in a violent rage. In the very beginning, maintaining our simple friendship was challenge enough. It took a lot of time to figure out that the reason we found it so hard to get along was because there was an unexplainable tension between us. We later figured out that we were attracted to each other. It took even longer for either of us to admit it. We finally did, and things smoothed out for a while, a month at best. When he wasn't busy flying off the handle, he was actually the nicest person I had ever been with. It didn't take me long to realize that I was falling for him- and hard, as he was falling for me as well, according to his words. It also didn't take me long to realize that nearly every other word out of the man's mouth was a lie.

Just the night after he 'confessed' that he 'loved' me, he, in a fit of rage over basically nothing, lashed out at me. His 'love' was a lie. That wasn't the last time. I was the target of his misplaced anger on a regular basis. Each time was worse than the last. We would leave each other bruised and bloodied. Each knock-down-drag-out would end in one of us storming out, only to return later, him always in tears, apologizing incessantly, begging me to not leave him, and swearing it would never happen again. It always did. Another lie. Why I hadn't left him sooner, I still can't say. Maybe it was because the make-up sex was so good? Maybe I was a masochist and never really knew it.

Our last fight as a couple was the be-all, end-all. I had had enough of being his punching bag (although this punching bag punched back!), so I ended it with him. He was devastated, or so it seemed. We had been through the whole "if you love me then why do you beat me?" routine, and he would always admit that he had anger issues and would get help, but never did. Another lie. Enough was enough.

When I told him I was leaving him, he broke down, a tearful mess. I had never seen him so upset. It almost scared me. Just the night before, he was yelling and beating me, now he was crying over me leaving. His mood swings frightened me more than everything.

I knelt in front of him in his sitting position, and ran my fingers through his hair, which was as long as mine at the time. He lifted his head and met my gaze. He looked me square in the eye and begged me to stay. Not even for half a second did I reconsider leaving.

I leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "I can't." I gently traced his jaw with the back of my hand before firmly pressing my lips to his one last time. I hardly gave him a chance to kiss me back before I pulled away and stood back up. As I took a step back, he gently grabbed my hand. He looked up at me with red, puffy eyes. "I love you, John."

I shook my head. "I don't love you. I-" I paused. "I hate you, Punk." It hurt me to say those words to him, but at the same time it felt so good. I did hate him. I hated him for everything he had done to me.

"I'll always love you," he whispered.

I turned to walk toward his front door. Big mistake it was to turn my back to him. He jumped up out of his chair and rushed me from behind. Before I knew it, I was face-first into the door, then flat on my back. He was on top of me, completely wailing on me. My will to live and escape in one piece was all I had. Twenty more seconds, maybe less, and I would be out cold. If I didn't think quick, I knew he would kill me. Never once had I been in a position like this with him.

Somehow I managed to free my hands. It all happened so fast that I can't be sure of how it even happened, but half-conscious I pushed him off of me and into the wall. Pure adrenaline. I stormed out the door without a single glance back.

After that, working with him was next to impossible. Sometimes he was tolerable, other times he was like a schoolyard bully. Occasionally he would try to get back together. I wasn't stupid, and I couldn't put up with his mood swings anymore. Plus, half the locker room was starting to notice his unusual behavior around me. Unusual even for him. I played it off like I had no idea what his problem was. Fortunately, I got drafted to Raw and didn't have to deal with him for a while.

But now here we were. He was atop the jumbo tron, showing the entire world just how insane he really was, although I'm sure people had their suspicions.

I was watching his stunt on one of the TVs backstage. He was alone. Any little slip of the foot and he would be flat on the ground in a matter of seconds. I didn't know how long before he would jump, or if he would change his mind. I couldn't take any chances. I had to hurry. I tore through the backstage area, scaled a couple of ladders, and quietly made my way into the shadows behind him. It was extremely dark up there. I had to be careful. I waited, hoping he would take even the smallest step back from the very edge. Seconds felt like hours. Finally he did. I grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him back. I held onto his shirt tight and whispered in his ear. "I love you." Then just as quickly as I had grabbed him, I pushed him as hard as I could, sending him stumbling over his feet and over the edge of the jumbo tron.  
~End

The entire crowd grew silent when they saw him standing atop the jumbo tron, microphone in hand. He spoke, claiming he was making the 'ultimate sacrifice' as his initiation as the new 'leader' of the New Nexus. He confessed his plans to jump from the top of the tron to the cold, hard arena below. His expression was cold, almost sinister as he spoke with vivid details of every bone and muscle in his body basically being destroyed.

Seeing him perched at least fifty feet above the ground, speaking maniacally of his soon-to-be suicide stirred up a thousand thoughts in my mind all at once. It suddenly made me realize that I loved the man just as much as I had grown to utterly hate him over the years.

Our personal and working relationships had always been strained. He was the most impossible man to get along with. He demanded perfection, and anything less, more times than not, would result in him going off in a violent rage. In the very beginning, maintaining our simple friendship was challenge enough. It took a lot of time to figure out that the reason we found it so hard to get along was because there was an unexplainable tension between us. We later figured out that we were attracted to each other. It took even longer for either of us to admit it. We finally did, and things smoothed out for a while, a month at best. When he wasn't busy flying off the handle, he was actually the nicest person I had ever been with. It didn't take me long to realize that I was falling for him- and hard, as he was falling for me as well, according to his words. It also didn't take me long to realize that nearly every other word out of the man's mouth was a lie.

Just the night after he 'confessed' that he 'loved' me, he, in a fit of rage over basically nothing, lashed out at me. His 'love' was a lie. That wasn't the last time. I was the target of his misplaced anger on a regular basis. Each time was worse than the last. We would leave each other bruised and bloodied. Each knock-down-drag-out would end in one of us storming out, only to return later, him always in tears, apologizing incessantly, begging me to not leave him, and swearing it would never happen again. It always did. Another lie. Why I hadn't left him sooner, I still can't say. Maybe it was because the make-up sex was so good? Maybe I was a masochist and never really knew it.

Our last fight as a couple was the be-all, end-all. I had had enough of being his punching bag (although this punching bag punched back!), so I ended it with him. He was devastated, or so it seemed. We had been through the whole "if you love me then why do you beat me?" routine, and he would always admit that he had anger issues and would get help, but never did. Another lie. Enough was enough.

When I told him I was leaving him, he broke down, a tearful mess. I had never seen him so upset. It almost scared me. Just the night before, he was yelling and beating me, now he was crying over me leaving. His mood swings frightened me more than everything.

I knelt in front of him in his sitting position, and ran my fingers through his hair, which was as long as mine at the time. He lifted his head and met my gaze. He looked me square in the eye and begged me to stay. Not even for half a second did I reconsider leaving.

I leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "I can't." I gently traced his jaw with the back of my hand before firmly pressing my lips to his one last time. I hardly gave him a chance to kiss me back before I pulled away and stood back up. As I took a step back, he gently grabbed my hand. He looked up at me with red, puffy eyes. "I love you, John."

I shook my head. "I don't love you. I-" I paused. "I hate you, Punk." It hurt me to say those words to him, but at the same time it felt so good. I did hate him. I hated him for everything he had done to me.

"I'll always love you," he whispered.

I turned to walk toward his front door. Big mistake it was to turn my back to him. He jumped up out of his chair and rushed me from behind. Before I knew it, I was face-first into the door, then flat on my back. He was on top of me, completely wailing on me. My will to live and escape in one piece was all I had. Twenty more seconds, maybe less, and I would be out cold. If I didn't think quick, I knew he would kill me. Never once had I been in a position like this with him.

Somehow I managed to free my hands. It all happened so fast that I can't be sure of how it even happened, but half-conscious I pushed him off of me and into the wall. Pure adrenaline. I stormed out the door without a single glance back.

After that, working with him was next to impossible. Sometimes he was tolerable, other times he was like a schoolyard bully. Occasionally he would try to get back together. I wasn't stupid, and I couldn't put up with his mood swings anymore. Plus, half the locker room was starting to notice his unusual behavior around me. Unusual even for him. I played it off like I had no idea what his problem was. Fortunately, I got drafted to Raw and didn't have to deal with him for a while.

But now here we were. He was atop the jumbo tron, showing the entire world just how insane he really was, although I'm sure people had their suspicions.

I was watching his stunt on one of the TVs backstage. He was alone. Any little slip of the foot and he would be flat on the ground in a matter of seconds. I didn't know how long before he would jump, or if he would change his mind. I couldn't take any chances. I had to hurry. I tore through the backstage area, scaled a couple of ladders, and quietly made my way into the shadows behind him. It was extremely dark up there. I had to be careful. I waited, hoping he would take even the smallest step back from the very edge. Seconds felt like hours. Finally he did. I grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him back. I held onto his shirt tight and whispered in his ear. "I love you." Then just as quickly as I had grabbed him, I pushed him as hard as I could, sending him stumbling over his feet and over the edge of the jumbo tron.  
~End


End file.
